Not Guilty
by Xmyheart.hope2die
Summary: That was his plea. But unless Rose can convince them, the Doctor's future's not looking so bright. Because on this planet, you're guilty until proven innocent. And they don't object to corporal punishment…Doc!Whump


_A/N Hello everyone *waves shyly* Thank you for dropping by. This is my first fanfic, so please play nice. The first chapter is a bit - confusing and disconnected - But I was kinda going for that. Please let me know if that makes it hard to read/fun to read. But I hope you enjoy the it as much as I enjoyed writing it!_

_Summary: Set somewhere after _The Satan Pit. _The Doctor and Rose receive an SOS from a mysterious planet calling for the Doctor to come immediately. But what they had thought was a call for help was actually a warrant for the Doctor's arrest. On what grounds? Murder. _

_Disclaimer: In neither this universe, nor any other universe, do I own the rights and characters of Doctor Who. If I did, do you think I would have let David Tennant leave? Not a chance! So, there's your proof! _

"Defense, do you wish to enter a plea?"

The gallery erupted with murmurs as the creature shakily stood up. Some were murmurs of accusation while some were sighs of sympathy. How sad looking. How strange looking. Worried eyes and yellow hair with pink-tinged pale skin covered with a light blue sweater and jeans. What a thing to wear to court. But she stood confidently, only glancing back once at the audience spreading the rumors about her companion.

* * *

Freshly spilled blood made his fingers slippery. The instruments set in front of him were sticky with the dark crimson substance. His hands, shaking with exhaustion, pain, and fear, struggled to keep their grip on the graduated cylinder and prevent the chemicals in the beaker from slopping all over the work bench.

As slowly as he dared, he began to pour. His hands still shook dangerously, the liquid falling into the cylinder unevenly and threatening to miss. At five milliliters it finally happened. Drops of hot chemicals splattered across the table and hit his hand. He cursed under his breath. The chemicals wouldn't harm _him _too much, but it had taken him hours of concentration and pain to create.

He couldn't waste time making more. He couldn't let them hurt her again.

* * *

"Retii Tyler?"

She jerked her eyes away from the whispering crowd and settled them on the judge. He was hard to look at directly; his skin was so white, as if he was covered in powdered sugar. His white hair, twisted in cords like everyone else's, was tied in a knot at the nap of his neck, giving his face a sinister tightness as his skin was pulled back.

"Retii Tyler, your companion's plea?" He asked again.

She glanced at the jury, a rainbow of colored skin and corded hair. They were looking at her expectantly, already judging her. Judging him. Some had already made up their minds.

Her lawyer sitting beside her gave her hand a supportive squeeze and somehow she found her voice.

"We plead not guilty, Your Honor." She said as strongly as she could.

The courtroom erupted once again.

* * *

His hand was red where the chemicals had made contact and his skin tingled slightly. Putting the beaker and graduated cylinder back on the table, he glanced around for a rag. A towel. Anything to clean up the mess on the work desk. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard an old voice from his past saying "A clean TARDIS is a safe TARDIS." He supposed that applied to unauthorized, highly illegal underground laboratories as well.

But there was nothing on the table. He hadn't even been given protective gloves. Sweat dripped into his eyes. It was getting unbearably hot in the lab. He knew he had a fever, probably from infection, but that wouldn't stop them. He reached up and wiped away the sweat with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his forehead. His blood. Her blood. He couldn't tell which was which anymore.

He had been standing still for too long. He heard the crack of the whip before it struck him across the bare shoulders and back, adding one more gash to the multitudes. He tried to keep the groan of pain from escaping his lips, but failed.

"Back to work!" An unsympathetic voice barked.

* * *

The judge called the court back to order, striking his elbow against the gong behind him. The shouts of "Not guilty, my antennas!" and "I told you, Retiar! I told you he was innocent!" began to die down and everyone settled into anxious silence. This was, of course, the case of the century. No one wanted to miss a syllable.

"Are the jury assembled?" The rainbowed array set along the side of the court gave the judge nods of assent. One was busy braiding strands of her blue cords together, seemingly uninterested in the happenings around her. Rose felt herself begin to glare at the girl and quickly looked away. His life was quite literally in her hands and she didn't even seem bothered.

The judge's voice called her back to attention. "Counselors, please make your opening statements now. Prosecution first." He added as both counselors began to rise. Rose felt her heart begin to thud even harder, trying to break out of her chest. She didn't want to hear the charges again. Didn't want to hear what he had done come out of the Prosecutor's mouth.

They were all lies, after all. Pure lies.

She hoped.

* * *

His hand landed in the puddle of spilt chemicals as he fought for balance, using the table to keep himself upright. Instantly, his fingers began to tingle. It would have been very irritating had his back not just been ripped open. He clenched his teeth, willing the searing pain to vanish. It didn't.

But it did lessen slightly. Just enough for him to risk trying to stand on his own again and open his eyes. His hand was scarlet colored now, like the shell of a lobster. He quickly tried to wipe the chemicals off on the loose-fitting jeans he'd been given, wincing as the sensitive skin met the rough fabric. He felt the guard's eyes burning into the back of his neck. "Alright. I know. I'm working." He said with a hoarse voice while holding up his hands, crimson from chemicals and blood. The guard was begging for an excuse to do that again. He wouldn't give it to him.

He had exactly one hour, twenty-three minutes, and sixteen seconds to get everything right.

* * *

"Thank you, Your Honor." The Prosecutor began. He turned to the jury and flashed them an orange smile with pointed teeth. They all looked up, even the blue one, and watched him respectfully.

"Retii and Retiar of the jury, as fellow citizens of Kenshia, you have all witnessed the affect the Great Immigration has had on our species. No doubt you all have a relative – parent, grandparent, uncle, aunt – who have suffered from the sudden change inflicted by – "

"Objection, you Honor!" Rose's counselor was on his feet now, glaring green at the Prosecutor.

"Grounds?"

"Leading on the members of the jury through excess pathos."

"Overruled. Continue, counsel."

"Thank you, Your Honor." The Prosecutor repeated. "As I was saying, I have no doubt that someone very close to each of you has been affected by this heinous, immoral act. Our generation, and the generations to come, will suffer in turn for what this man has done to us – to everyone he forced to find a new home. Our planet's constitution clearly states that there shall be no confiscation of one's land without due process or just reasoning."

* * *

He began to refill the graduated cylinder, using both hands to support and steady the beaker. A sigh of relief escaped him as he finally emptied the glass without a drop spilled. And with just enough of the chemical left to satisfy.

He transferred the liquid in the cylinder into another glass flask and carefully lit a Bunsen Burner, setting it beneath the flask to heat up. It would take approximately twenty minutes for the substance to mature before he could add the final, lethal ingredients.

He was all too aware of what little time he had left.

* * *

"Your client," the Prosecutor glanced at the Defense Counsel. "And your companion," He nodded in Rose's direction, almost too graciously. "Has taken away and destroyed our collective home, without justification from The Shadow Proclamation or even our own courts, and forced us with the threat of death onto this new and merciless land thereafter."

* * *

One hour, eleven minutes, and forty-six seconds.

* * *

"The defendant, known only as 'The Doctor' due to his refusal to state his identity, has run us from our planet and destroyed our homes. Twenty thousand lives were lost that day, and still the death toll rises from those affected by the dramatic change. Retii and Retiar of the jury. Your honor. On behalf of the lives of all those lost due to this man's actions, and for all the surviving family members who suffer daily from their loses, I request that the just and proper punishment be passed to 'The Doctor.' "

Rose felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. She knew what that meant. Retiar Crollins had warned her just days ago of what the worst action that could be taken against him could be. Trying to prepare her.

And the Prosecutor was looking directly at her as he sneered, "Our law calls for ten years in prison for each soul lost by the slayer's hand. Upon proving 'The Doctor's' guilt – which I intend to do shortly – I request that the Court rules the minimum penalty for such a crime as his: a minimum of a two-hundred _thousand_ year sentence."

The crowd murmured again. They murmured in anger and agreement.

* * *

One hour, five minutes, and twenty-eight seconds until that courtroom would become Kenshia II's first ever gas chamber.

_A/N Once again, thank you! Remember, I am new to this, so please feel free to leave your thoughts and some CONSTRUCTIVE criticism in my lovely review box! It won't hurt you! Or at least ... I don't _think _it bites..._


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